


Descent

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Series: Dark MiddleEarth [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arwen POV(first person), Character Death, F/M, M/M, Rape, Slavery, evil elves, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of lust and domination</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine a MiddleEarth where Isildur did not throw the ring into the fires of Mount Doom. But he did not keep it, either. He listened to the wisdom of the elves. He brought the ring to Lothlorien for the elders to decide what to do with it.
> 
> Galadriel took the ring.
> 
> Darkness was banished from MiddleEarth.
> 
> Darkness was replaced with the searing brightness that is the Queen of the Golden Woods.
> 
> The world was reshaped...

I like humans. They are such simple creatures with simple worries and pleasures. Give them a little boon and they will be endlessly grateful; take it away and they will mourn it just as fervently. It fascinates me, how their reactions always remain the same, no matter which of them you choose. Old or young, male or female, they are utterly predictable. And predictable is very good in a world, where you have to watch everybody not to stab you in the back.

I have been studying them for quite a while now. When the Dark Lady first charged me with this task, I deeply despised it and thought it a punishment or cruel joke on her part. For humans are also dirty, smelly, stupid and rather unruly. But one does not argue, when the Dark Lady, who once was my mothers mother, gives you an order.

Most of my relatives consider humans to be no better - or rather worse - than animals. They are difficult to train, have a short live span, are not very intelligent and - to top things off - are surprisingly ugly. As I have watched them carefully and learned how they think, I still must admit, that they are none to bright, but training them is not as difficult as would seem. We are just doing it the wrong way. They are easy to satisfy and long for a strong leader to follow without thinking. The only problem about this is, that you have to get close to them - emotionally - to make them accept you as a leader. And whoever would want to be close to a human?

Although I have to admit, that some of them have kind of a rugged charm. Not beautiful like an elf or cute like a halfling. But their passion does have an allure. It burns so much brighter and hotter than the passion of our kind. All devouring, defying rules, fears and in an almost unbelievable way sometimes even death. I have watched it happen. Several times. The last time only a couple of days ago.

So I have decided to take my studies a step further. In two senses. Up till now, I have only watched the tame humans, my father keeps to work the fields. They are interesting but certainly not satisfying. Their behavior has been twisted by generations of captivity. To find out, what humans can be like, I will have to have a look at wild ones. Sadly they are almost extinct. There are still some living in the caves on the slopes of the misty mountains and there are supposed to be some left in the deep south. But they are difficult to catch.

Only a couple of days ago our hunters managed to trap one and brought him here to Rivendell. He was delightful to watch. Like a proud wolf among tamed lap dogs he moved. Ah... how much I would have enjoyed studying him. What a fierce pet he would have made, after proper training. It would have been a priceless opportunity. Alas, the stupidity of my dear brother destroyed that chance. And the all to human anger, my father sometimes falls into.

I argued long and hard with him, to allow me to keep the human, to allow me to break him. But he still thinks me a weak woman. Is not willing to see, how far my abilities have long ago surpassed his. Maybe it is for the better, that he actually seems to be fond of me. Like this, he will not expect the dagger, when it strikes. How I will enjoy being Lady of Rivendell...

But fate has granted me another chance. And one even more fascinating, because this wolf has not been caught but has willingly walked into the trap.

-

I walk the grounds of the slave huts almost every night. They never notice me, cloaked in shadows as I can be. I listen to them chatting about their dull lives, quarreling about little things, making love. I watch them as they are borne, as they grow up to realize their lives are preordained, watch them grow old, watch them die. I remember watching the grandfathers of some of the old men. A human live passes so fast it sometimes seems like a moment to me.

Last night something new occurred. Something I had not seen before. I had been watching the boy, who had so wildly fallen in love with the wild human, trying to foresee, what he was going to do. I had other humans seen killing themselves to follow there loved ones into death, but I did not think this one was going to choose death. He seemed to be very close to his brother and although he seemed deeply grieving I did not believe he would leave his brother like that.

So I was a little worried, when he wandered of all on his own in the middle of the night. I followed him silently, to watch, what would enfold. But he just sought out the place, where he and the wild human had made love, some nights before. That I had watched as well and I had felt their passion almost as if it had been my own. It had given even more weight to my decision to not only study a wild human, but to see what it would be like to share that passion.

He lay there, staring at the sky, silently crying. Such a simple mind. Why should one burden oneself with such emotions? I can see, that the passions of love making are enjoyable, but to attach your heart to another being like that? Such madness... Maybe I should show myself to him? He was in a very fragile state. It should be easy to bind him to me. I was still considering my options, when I noticed a dark figure creeping up to the boy very slowly and carefully. Almost as stealthily as one of my kind. Almost. But it smelled of human.

Absentmindedly I watched as the human closed the distance to the crying boy. It was not one of the human slaves my father kept. I could see a hunting bow and quiver strapped to his back and I was rather sure there would be a knife or sword at his side as well. He must be a wild human. But what was he doing in my fathers valley?

There was only one possible conclusion and it left me wondering at the utter stupidity and brashness of the man. He must be looking for that other wild human my brother had caught. The one who had died under Legolas knifes only some nights before. To risk his life in such a foolish manner. How ridiculous. How utterly human.

He got closer and closer to the boy and was still not being noticed. I wondered what he wanted with the boy. Surely he would not hurt one of his kin. But with humans you never knew. I had witnessed both devotion to kin and cruelty worth of an elf in them. This might prove to be a new experience. Hadn't I complained about not being able to study wild ones? Maybe this was my chance.

The wild human now knelt next to the weeping boy and with one fluid motion grabbed him, put a dagger to his throat and a hand on his mouth to prevent him from crying out. The boy went completely still, fear radiating from his confused mind.

"Do not move or scream." I heard the dark hoarse voice of the wild human whisper. "I mean you no harm, I just want some questions answered." He had a curious accent I had not heard from a human before. Strangely hard and clipped, not the melodious singing tone of an elf at all. I sounded like he had only learned the elvan language but never mastered it, like our human slaves did.

I watched the boy tremble in fear, I heard the fierce and fearful beating of the wild humans heart. What an interesting tableau they offered. Both afraid, both dealing with their fear in such diverse ways. The boy tried to relax and the wild one relaxed in turn and slowly removed his hand from the mouth of the boy but not the dagger.

"Who are you?" The boy whispered, his voice shaky and harsh with the tears he had cried only moments before. "I am Aragorn of the free tribes of the north." The wild human and answered and I felt an unsuspected smile form on my lips. What a pompous title for a ragged band of wildlings. What an amusing concept.

The boy was staring at this Aragorn with wide eyed wonder. "You are a friend of Halbarad?" he asked, breathless with hope. I watched Aragorn‘s grip tighten on the hilt of the dagger and then remove the weapon from the boys throat. "Yes," he answered. "He is my brother in arms. Where is he?" Sadness flooded the boys mind and he bowed his head. I watched clenching fear overtake Aragorn's mind as well. 

"He is dead." the boy said quietly. "They killed him." "No..." The word was only hissed, barely audible, but deep pain reverberated in it. "That can not be, they only took him two weeks ago. He can not be dead. He can not..." With interest I watched a single desperate tear smooth down a path through the dirt on the wild human's face.

"I think he could not stand being a slave." the boy whispered, his pain as obvious to me as Aragorn's. "He took his first opportunity to make them kill him." "He should have waited for me." the wild one's voice was filled with pain induced anger. What an exceptionally emotional creature. What a wonderful specimen.

There was no doubt in my mind, that this one was meant for me. To study and use and play with. A gift send from some higher being. And have him I would. With ease I slipped into his unprotected mind and dampened his awareness, made him sleepy and weak. It only took some moments for my magic to take effect and he was sinking to the ground, asleep and helpless.

The boy was still staring at him in shock and fear, when the elvan guards, mentally summoned to my side, appeared to take the wild one away.

-

The fear and hatred shining in his bright blue eyes was almost as exquisite as the true emotion swamping his mind, drowning all other feelings. He was so deliciously afraid of me and so very angry that he had allowed himself to be caught as well. His emotions reverberated in my chambers, filling them with their heady strength. 

He lay on my bed, naked and uncovered, carefully tied with silken ropes, that would neither hurt him nor allow him to break free. He was utterly helpless, completely at my mercy and he knew it.

I felt his burning eyes on me, while I silently moved through my rooms, doing this and that, giving the perfect impression of ignoring him, savoring his emotions rising ever higher. I felt sated with those alone. Wouldn't do to overtax his ability to feel too soon. His mind was a like a finely wrought and tuned instrument to me and I wanted to play it to the full extent of it's range. But to do that I first had to learn him.

I moved over to the small balcony right next to the broad bed – so tantalizingly close the freedom he so much craved and still out of reach – and gazed outside, still seemingly ignoring him. I felt his eyes bore into my back, the wish to hurt me so prominent in his mind, that it almost overwhelmed me. An unsuspected smile tugged at my lips, when I watched the pictures of him strangling me play over and over again before his mind's eye. And I hadn't even done anything to him yet. Time to change that.

I turned around and for the first time actually fully looked at him, holding his gaze with me eyes, slowly wrestling him into defeat without doing anything but watching him. The urge to turn his head away got stronger and stronger but I overruled his own wishes with my will and let him feel, that he had no choice but to obey, that I controlled his mind easily. His fear swallowed his hatred and when I finally let go, finally allowed him to look away, his whole body was trembling, a thin sheen of sweat covering him.

Gracefully I sat down on the edge of the bed. What a nice body he had, hidden under all that dirt and grime. Lean and strong, like a hunting dog. I would have him cleaned, sooner or later. But now I wanted to enjoy his natural state, study the places, where the dirt had seeped into his skin so deeply, that it would have to be scrapped of to clean it. I wondered if he would scream, when I would have my hobbits do it. Or if he would endure, biting his lips bloody not to satisfy me. He would try, I decided.

He was doing a good job even now, calming his fearful body, slowing his heart rate, trying to regain control over himself. Should I allow it? Grant him this small measure of hope for now? No, my curiosity got the better of me.

I raised my slender hand and held it just over the dark, stained skin of his chest to marvel at the difference. His skin was not only dirty but also rough and crossed by ugly scars. Mine was smooth, shining white, almost translucent in it's perfection. If there had ever been any doubt in my mind which race was the superior one this certainly would have abated it.

Again a smile tugged at my lips. He amused me. That was good. It would make sure I would not break him out of carelessness. It endeared him to me. I would make him fully mine. He would be a wonderful pet to show off to my brothers and cousins. They would adore me for my expertise.

Still he kept his eyes averted, his head turned to the side as far as he could. Already he started to fear me. But it was still a long way to properly breaking him.

My fingertips touched his skin and a shiver ran down his whole body. He tried to draw back from this lightest of touches and I allowed it. Allowed him to separate skin from skin, feeling his relief wash over me like a warm wave. He hated me, despised everything about me. Again I lowered my hand till my fingertips touched him. Again he recoiled.

The smile on my lips bloomed. Time for his first lesson. Touch, recoil, touch, recoil. I varied the places I touched him, varied the length of the brief breaks in my attention, never letting him find even a shred of certainty. I did keep away from his face and his quite impressive sexual organ. That were things to keep for later. But I explored the rest of his body with feather-light touches always allowing him to flee contact. 

At last the realization that he was just torturing himself set in. And he stayed still. Utterly still, only his quickened heartbeat vibrating through his body. He hated my touch but he endured, understanding that it was a game I played and that I would only stop if he submitted. Of course he thought he was acting reasonable. Doing the sensible thing in giving in to escape further unpleasantness.

He had no way of knowing that it only was the first step on a long winding road of giving in, giving up – that would ultimately lead him to total submission under my will.

-

Golden sunlight was slanting through the window, drenching most of the room in brightness. The winter was finally relenting in his icy grasp and allowing a bit of warmth to creep back into the high halls of Rivendell.

I did not welcome it. The pristine white of winter suits my heart so much better. It is beautiful to the eye and the long dark nights are my friends. I am called the 'Evenstar' and rightly so as the light of the moon makes me shine and the fire of the sun makes me pale.

She - who was my mother's mother once - thrives in the sun. Her woods are filled with golden light, her beauty gleams and burns, to bright to behold. Her fire so bright it scorches to the bone, leaving only ashes in her wake. Those who serve her closely are burned to cinder inside. Their whole being crippled and seared. But they never notice in the brightness of her light.

I fear her - as snow fears fire. She knows this and smiles, requiring my presence only when I have failed her. So I must never fail.

My slave knelt in that golden warmth, his head bowed. The light made his dark hair shine the color of polished ebony. It still was unruly, but clean and well kept. Just as he was. 

His hands were clasped behind his back as he had been taught to do when his service was not required. He had learned much in the last months. His lessons had been just as harsh as the cold of winter and he had fought them all the way. Not one step into servitude had he taken without scratching and biting and spitting like a caged predator. 

At times I had wondered, if I had been mistaken in taking him in. If I had misjudged my own ability to break wills to my devices. But the thought of surrendering to him, a mere mortal, had rankled to much. So I had proved just as stubborn as him. Now he was kneeling there, his breathing even, his head demurely bowed, his whole posture announcing perfect servitude and still he defied me.

His body might serve me but instead of breaking his mind, I had helped him hone it to a razor sharpness. He knew me just as well a I knew him. He might not be able to read my mind, my emotions, but he had learned to judge my mood by minute details of posture. They say none can read an elf, but he had learned and the longer he stayed the thinner my chances of deceiving him grew.

He endured any cruelties I may heap on him calmly, his mind blank and not suffering anymore. He had resigned himself to the fact, that he would not escape me alive. But he had decided that there would come a moment of weakness in me, a moment when he could strike a lethal blow if he just waited patiently. 

So that was what he did, kneeling there in the warm light. He waited for me to make a mistake so he could kill me. I did not plan to make that mistake of course. But his silent intent had been grating on my nerves for the last two weeks, wearing away at me like the constant dropping of water on the exact same stop will wear even a mountain thin.

And I just couldn't accept that he had found a way to close himself off to my disciplining him. Not that there was anything to discipline him for anymore anyway. He was the perfect slave, obeying my every word, pleasing me in every way I desired. Except one. Except breaking for me. I truly hated him now. But I was not willing to give up just yet.

I had taken from him every thing that made him what he had been. I had broken his pride and proven all his threats and promises of strength hollow. I had made him beg to stop the pain I inflicted on him. I had made him swear everything I desired to hear, just to make me grant him release from his suffering. And I had watched him forgo every single one of those oath sworn under torture, watched him explain it away and still know that he had acted against what he perceived as his honor.

And how sweet it had been to have him lying on my bed, writhing in the throes of his passion, begging me with equal fervor to not stop, to give him more of the pleasure I had granted him.

To watch him suffer endless self-loathing afterwards. To ingrain the knowledge, that his body belonged to me in pleasure and pain. That he was helpless to resist me.

All these lessons he had learned. His pride and honor in tatters, his heart shattered, his mind close to breaking, and still he defied me. Still he drew strength from some unfathomable well.

For the past days, the first days of spring I had watched him closely, mostly leaving him to his own thoughts, trying to find a weakness in his armor of cold, desperate willingness to die for a chance to take me with him. Hoping that when I did not directly occupy his attention I would find an opening for attack.

Only one thought had surfaced that had caught my attention. Loneliness. He was intensely lonely, having lived a life of perpetual closeness with his tribe mates.

I was considering this fact as I watched him kneel below my window now. How could I turn this against him? How could I use it to finally break that last barrier he had so successfully erected around himself? What would make him vulnerable?

The answer was so simple that it almost made me smile. The human's greatest strength - their trust in each other - was also their greatest weakness. I would give him what he most desired - friends to trust, to love, to cherish. And then I would take them from him again, making him loath himself and those friends hate him. Preferably even make him feel so guilty and desperate that he would serve me for the rest of his life to keep his friends safe.

-

My breath seemed to freeze the moment it left my lips. Snow blanketed Rivendell like a pale shroud and ice hung from every tree, every roof, catching the moonlight, sparkling with a thousand secrets.

My feet made now sound where they touched the snow and left no trail to followed. Silence stretched over the home of my father and I was not difficult to imagine that I was the only living, breathing being in this cold and desolate and beautiful landscape, drifting along like a snow myself.

It had been snowing all day and I had spend the hours of weak sunlight sitting by my window, watching, waiting, smiling. I was happy, if such a state exists for a being like me. There is hardly anything more satisfying than a carefully laid plan working in the anticipated way.

The snowing had stopped an hour after nightfall and now the world was as still as if it had died. I had listened to my father, my brothers, the people who considered themselves to be my friends go to sleep one after the other. Had watched as light after light in the high halls of Rivendell was extinguished. Now it was time for me to venture out and enjoy what I had created.

The path down to the valley with the slave huts had been cleared of snow just this morning, but now it was covered with a thin sheen of white again, bringing another smile to my lips.

Dear Legolas would be delighted. The human slaves really had nothing to do in the coldest months of the year and he was hard pressed to keep them busy, keep them working as slaves always should be. It was a pointless task to clear this path and all the others over and over and over again, but that made it that much more fun for Legolas to oversee.

To watch the slaves shiver and freeze in there inadequate clothes brought immense pleasure to him. The more so when he and they knew they would have to do the exact same thing again just to give him the pleasure of seeing them suffer. My young cousin really still had a lot to learn on the finer arts of torture. His devices were almost mortally crude. 

But he was still young and as he had been born after the Lady had shaped the elvan race anew after her elevation over all of us, his cruelty was inbred and would grow more refined with the years. He had no need to constantly work at his ways like I did.

I stopped on the last rise before the slave grounds and looked down at the huts, huddled together as if they were freezing as well. The night was silent here as well, but not as serenely dark. In each of the huts a small fire was allowed to burn to keep the slaves from dying of the cold. They might only be humans but still they were valuable. The red light of the fires illuminated the huts from within and made each one of them look like a cozy little cave, filled with hibernating animals. Not so wrong an impression maybe.

Slowly I moved down the path, invisible in my white robes against the white of the snow and invisible to they eyes of mere mortals anyway. This was the very last night I was going to check on my sweet little wildling. The last night I would grant him with his lover. The last night he would know something close to happiness. The last night before I would finally break him.

Two years had passed since I had given him into Legolas care, setting my carefully laid plans in motion. It had not been difficult to decide, where he might find the friends that were essential for his final destruction. Well did I remember where I had found him that first night. With the boy who had been the lover of another wild human. That other wild human, who had been the reason that Aragorn had dared to enter Rivendell in the first place. 

I had made sure he would share the hut and work of that slave, hoping that they would grow close. Hoping the boy would be able to melt the icy armor Aragorn had erected around his heart. But my wildling knew me to well. He had worked in the fields with the other slaves. He had suffered with them, but he had kept himself carefully apart, not believing for a moment that I had truly let him escape my clutches. No matter how hard the boy had tried to coax some semblance of human behavior back into him, he had remained detached for almost a year and I had been ready to truly give up on him.

Then circumstance had come to my aid. And I had not even been there to watch, when it had happened for it had been broad daylight and the slaves had been in the fields. Legolas had not told me that something had occurred but when I had come to watch him in the night, he had not been lying asleep as he normally did, but instead sat next to another human, that I recognized as the elder brother of the boy. They had both watched over the sleeping boy with a fierceness in their minds that was so much akin that I had wondered why I had not seen how well the two humans were suited for each other before.

Both men were seriously hurt. I could feel the pain from cracked ribs from my wildling and his bare back and arms were marked with bloodied streaks. An ugly cut ran down the length of the face of the other man and he had been beaten as well. I picked from their memories what had happened during the day.

Obviously dear Legolas had been in an especially foul mood again. And he had chosen the boy as a victim to vend his anger on. And had suddenly found himself confronted not only with the boys brother but also with an enraged Aragorn. I could still feel the surprise in the heart of my wildling, that he had still found so much anger, so much emotion in himself. It seemed the sweet boy had found a way into his heart, even if he had never acknowledged it.

Both men had reacted with the instincts of a she-bear guarding a cub, attacking the slave master without heeding the danger they put themselves in. It might well have been the end of both their lives, had I not told Legolas in minute detail what I would do to him should he ruin my plans. Obviously he had remembered my warning words in time. So they had just been severely beaten for their insolence. Neither of them cared. All that seemed to matter to them was, that they had protected the boy.

Friendship grew between the two of them after this and it had only taken little nudges to their minds to turn that friendship into love. More than a year had passed and slowly even my wildling started to believe, that he was free of me. Little does he know of the patience of an immortal.

I had watched their love grow through the summer. Had watched them steal away in the night to make love. Their dirty bodies entwined in rather unpleasant displays, their mind entwined as well, shining with the warmth and happiness they found in each others arms. Sometimes I almost envied them.

Autumn had been a difficult time for both of them. My wildling became more and more restless as the numbness he had induced on himself faded and his true self emerged. They had talked about escape endlessly. Aragorn trying to convince his lover and the boy to flee. The two brothers telling him over and over again it just was not possible. One night they had fought, my wildling and his lover, beating each other almost senseless and I had worried that perhaps my plans would not work out. But they had ended up crying in each others arms, swearing they would risk escape once the winter was passed. 'Better to die a free man then to serve'. That had been their vow. How very touching.

So during the last two month they had clung to each other with the desperation of lovers who knew that their days were numbered.

I silently entered the hut they shared and looked down at them. They lay curled up next to the fire, wrapped in a faded blanket, so closely entwined it was almost impossible to tell them apart. My wildlings head resting on the chest of his lover, his lover's blond head snuggled close to him, his nose buried in dark hair, arms around each other as if they feared letting go would mean loosing the other. Their minds filled with the scent and feeling of the beloved, resting, dreaming of a better world.

So sweet, so trusting, so weak.

-

I looked down at my wildling and his lover for a long time, wondering what course their life might take, if they were to escape in spring. Where they would go, how their love might grow. Their mortal lives were so short, what could they accomplish in the few years that remained? What was there to accomplish anyway in a world where their race was fading? A mere memory of times when their numbers had threatened to drive out my own people. What else but bitterness and defeat could they find in the end? 

Better to break them now. Had I not granted them a whole summer of happiness? Should they not be grateful for this. I would spare them the burden of growing old and unhappy together.

A cruel smile twisted my lips. What a cute little lie. Of course they would be happier without my interference. But that was not the point. The point was that I would be happier, wrenching them apart.

I blew them a gentle kiss of farewell and moved on to the small bundle sleeping close to them. Close, but still apart. The mortal boy. They both loved him. Never would they believe that the innocent boy would be the wedge I would drive between them, the tool I would use to destroy their love and finally break the strong spirit of my wildling.

And it was so easy. I knelt down next to the boy, my fingers hovering above his brow. Even in sleep it was slightly creased, drawn with a worry he never named. But I knew it well. He loved his brother and he loved my Aragorn as well. But he also saw that he was the weight, that kept the two strong men tied to Rivendell. That his weakness was their undoing as well.

I had listened to his thoughts all through summer. I had watched him watch the human lovers make plans for their escape all through autumn. And I had fueled his fear, his feeling of inadequacy. What had been insecurity had grown into self-loathing under my careful influence. Now he was sure that it was only his presence that kept the lovers captive, that it was his fault alone, they had to suffer under elvan whips. He had been so easy to manipulate. And now I would put to use the tool I had made.

'You don't want to burden them any longer' my thoughts whispered in his dreams. 'You will free them of yourself. They will be free, they will be happy, and you will finally be free of your own suffering. They love you, they will not allow you to free them. You will have to be careful and swift. They must not interfere. It's for their own good.'

"For their own good..." he murmured in his sleep, turning over, clutching his thin blanket closer to his chest, a single tear running down his cheek.

It was a dangerous game now. It might work. But only if I managed to worm my way into the mind of my wildling lover in the right moment. Only if I managed to control his tongue for long enough to mortally wound the heart of Aragorn. But all that would have to wait till morning. Till my carefully laid plans finally entered their last phase.

-

Dawn came slowly that day, the sun seemed to rise only reluctantly as if she feared what she was going to witness. I sat by my window and watched the pale sunlight stream down through snow-covered leafs, glisten in the ice that hung from roofs and branches. Even in its weakness it managed to give the sleeping nature a silver shine. How strange to see the sun cast a light that was normally reserved for the moon. Maybe she was not my enemy after all. Maybe sun wanted to illuminate my victory.

All through the night I had kept a bond with the sleeping boy, filling his mind with images of what he was to do today. In the morning his heart had been heavy with the knowledge of what his actions would bring about. But my suggestions had taken root and his determination was adorable.

While my eyes watched the sunrise, my mind watched him rise, forcing a smile for his brother and my wildling, then fleeing the hut, unable to face them, afraid they might read in his face what he was about to do. They were used to his strange behavior by now. Otherwise one of them might have followed him to ask questions. Otherwise they might have found out. Otherwise the might have thwarted my plans. 

But they were to comfortable in each others arms, relishing the few minutes of closeness before the overseer would drive them out into the cold again. How they would regret this.

My mind followed the boy, watched him stand before the hut fighting his own fear, watched him face his lack of courage all on his own, watched him win his fight.

He followed the path leading from his hut to the open middle of the small village where the slaves gathered in the morning. Not many were about yet and all of them were still sleepy. None noticed the grim determination in the boy's face.

It was one of my cousins who was on duty that morning. I do not recall his name. His arrogance was his undoing. He did not think the little cripple a threat, he let him get to close. 

I will never forget the look of utter surprise on his face that I witnessed through the boys eyes. The shock when a coil of rope was wound tightly around his neck from behind, when the rope was drawn taunt and suddenly their was no air to breath, the impotent anger when he realized, that he could not reach the boy behind him, that was holding the rope. Too much time passed with his angry fumbling, still his arrogance held sway, still he did not comprehend that he was about to die. When he finally tried to reach for his sword, his fingers were not able to grasp the weapon anymore.

By now other elvan guards were rushing to his aid, but they were too late. I felt the body of my cousin grow slack beneath the boys hands, felt his spirit drift from his mortal body with my own senses, before the guards arrived, before they seized the boy, hitting him hard, before darkness descended on the young human and I was propelled back to my own body.

A small smile was on my lips when I rose from my high-backed chair and cleared the crinkles from my robe. Time to make a personal appearance now. Time to see this game through to an end.

I did not hurry on my way down to the slave grounds. I wanted to give my wildling and his lover the time to comprehend what had happened, time to despair. On the path down to the valley I met one of my brothers, who was going down, too. To see who had dared to kill one of us, to find out what kind of threat in the midst of the slave camp had escaped the guards notice. How surprised he would be, when he found out that it was a mere boy. A boy he himself had crippled a couple of years ago. But he would probably not even remember that.

He cautioned me against going, worried about my safety. How ridiculous. He would be one of the first to be removed, once I ruled over Rivendell. But I allowed him to take my arm and walk down the path with me, to pretend he was my guardian.

Most of the elvan guards seemed dazed with the shock of the sudden attack on one of their own. But Legolas was there as well and he kept a tied control on them, making sure they kept the other slaves away from the boy, who was still unconcious and now tied to the posts in front of the dwarf's hut. So his fate was already decided. He would die a death of pain. Like his own wildling had done two years ago. How fitting.

Legolas greeted my brother with a false expression of anger and sorrow about our cousin's death. In his heart was only anticipation for the torture of the boy. Should I tell him now, that if everything went according to my plans, there would be no long torturous death for this slave? No, he might ruin my game.

I stayed next to my brother, pretending to seek his cover, while my eyes scanned the crowd of slaves for the two familiar faces of my Aragorn and his lover. There.

The pain in both their faces was almost tangible. A burning, seething anger and hatred in the eyes of my lovely wildling, desperation and defeat and those of his lover. And both were fixed on the boy between the poles.

I saw Aragorn turn to his lover, probably about to utter some mad plan for rescue. Now I had to act quickly. I concentrated hard, finding a way inside the other mans mind with brute force. He would know later, that he had been used. He would remember that it were not his own words, that tumbled from his tongue. But then it would be too late.

"...can save him." I heard dear Aragorn say through his ears. "NO!" I used his lover's hands to shove Aragorn away, used the pain in his heart to make his eyes shine with anger he did not really feel. "Have you not done enough harm? Don't you see why he did this? Because of you! Because he did not want to stand in your way! You could just as well have killed him yourself!!" Tears were not difficult to emulate. He felt like crying anyway. Crying out in pain, because he knew full well, that he would lose his brother this day and that his lover was just now being wrenched away from him as well.

Through the connection I had maintained through all this time I felt the blow land on my wildling's heart, felt the first crack appear in it. "It's your fault! It's all your fault!!" It was getting increasingly hard to keep control, for my wildling's lover had a stronger will than I had anticipated, but I held him in a vice's grip, turned him around and made him flee the scene. Just far enough that he would not easily be found, then I ripped his consciousness out without any finesse at all. All that mattered was that he would not interfere in what was to come next.

When I turned my attention back to my wildling I had to fight hard to suppress the smile that was about to form on my lips. Oh how delicious to see him like this. He believed every single word I had said through his lover's lips. I had hit the mark as exactly as any elvan archer. And I had pierced his heart as well. Where there had been the golden center of his lover's affection now a bleak burned desert stretched. He was alone. Alone and vulnerable.

It only took a tiny nudge to make him notice me. And now the rest was up to him. Had I hit him hard enough to break him or would he recover from the blow? Would he come to submit to me or would he go seek his lover?

I waited breathlessly, carefully keeping any kind of expression from my face, feigning interest in the conversation between my brother and Legolas. Never in my long life had waiting been so hard, never had I watched a mortals thoughts and feelings with such single-minded concentration. For a long, long moment he was tethering on the edge but then his grip on the last ember of hope faltered and he fell into true despair.

His steps were heavy and without strength when slowly walked over to me. The guards saw him and moved to intercept him and I pretended to notice him just then, motioning the guards to let him pass. And at long last he did, what I had been waiting for so long: he knelt in front of me, his head bowed, his heart shattered, his soul empty of defiance, now he was mine.

I touched his head with gentleness, my fingers trailing through his tangled hair - now dirty again. He did not flinch away. 

How sweet the taste of victory. For a second I considered turning away. I had defeated him, broken and beat as he knelt at my feet there was no doubting it. Had there been any softness in my heart I might have let him go. Might even have saved his lover's brother. Might have granted them a chance at escape, might have granted them freedom. Alas, my heart was ice and the joy of seeing him broken was too true to give up so easily.

"What is it, my sweet one?" I asked him softly. "How fare you? Are you happier here?" As if I hadn't watched him these past two years, as if I didn't know every single breath he had taken.

A shudder ran through him. "I beg your help, my Lady." he whispered, his voice coarse with pain. "Save this boy and I shall do whatever you command. I shall be what you wish me to be."

Ah, how well he still knew me, how well he had perceived my heart's desire. I felt the last remains of his heart wither away while he spoke, turning as icy as my own. But there was a price to pay for defying me for so long.

"He is close to your heart?" Just the right amount of detached pity in my voice to be believable. "I am sorry, dear wildling, but his fate is sealed. He will..."

"Lady, please..." How satisfying to actually hear him plead. How uplifting, how delicious. "Please, help him." 

I feigned a quick glance over to Legolas and my brother but they were still talking. So much for the vigilance of my brother... allowing me into the danger of talking to a wild slave without his protection.

"Even I can not save him." I told my wildling softly. "I can offer you nothing more than a quick death..."

He looked up at me then, unshed tears frozen in his eyes. He did not know, did not even suspect, that all this was my doing. And the fact that I was not able to help him like he had hoped I would made the whole game even more believable.

"Anything..." he whispered. "Anything to ease his pain..."

I nodded, a sad smile gracing my lips, my fingers trailing along his stubbled jaw. I moved over to the bound boy more quickly then any of the guards could react, the dagger hidden in my sleeve till it snaked out and slashed across the boy's exposed throat.

Blood gushed over his rough slave's tunic and a cry of surprise went up from the guards, my brother, Legolas and the gathered slaves. The elves were around me in moments, trying to find out why I had done this. But I had time enough to glimpse the face of my wildling. And there I found something, that frightened me. Gratitude.


End file.
